Remembering Challenger 25 years later; where were you?
By Charles Williams
January 28, 2011
January 28, 2011
|
Each generation defines itself by events that profoundly affect it -- Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy Assassination, 9/11. But for me, the destruction of the space shuttle Challenger is the most deep-seated milestone.
When the shuttle disintegrated 25 years ago today, I was home sleeping, two miles from the Johnson Space Center. On Jan. 28, 1986, I was a college student by day and network technical support analyst by night, working the 11:30 p.m. until 8 a.m. shift at the Space Center. A typical night required that I monitor network communications lines to Kennedy Space Center, Marshall Space Flight Center and several other facilities so NASA could share computers and use a relatively new communication tool called e-mail. I recall Jack Garman, famous for his part in the the Apollo 11 lunar landing, calling at 4 a.m. and demanding that he be allowed to send e-mail 24 hours a day. The engineers who I awoke from their slumber weren't happy, but the request is laughable now. Working at the Johnson Space Center felt like a calling, an opportunity to work for the greater good of humanity. President Kennedy's inspirational words still resonated in 1986. Idealistic? Maybe, but who hasn't dreamed of unlocking secrets of the universe by sitting in an actual mission controller's seat? It was something I did, albiet when the computers were down late at night. Many nights were spent in building 12 and the adjacent building 30, which is the Mission Control Center building; it was as close to the action as a 23-year-old kid could hope to be. Though I had no illusion of ever jetting off into space, I met people who did just that. |
The night before the disaster, my shift was uneventful, beyond the usual challenge of staying awake. In between work and yawns, I usually wrote research papers for classes such as "History of Russian Art" or "History of Film," but I don't remember what I was working on that night.
Then, Challenger exploded.
When I arrived the next night, my world had changed. A security guard stood outside my door, and the computers were locked down. The future of the shuttle program was uncertain, the calling was in question.
NASA was familiar with disaster. Three astronauts perished in the Apollo 1 fire in 1967, but that seemed a distant memory to many working on the shuttle program. The thrill of the first launch on April 12, 1981, had become business as usual by the time Challenger launched for the tenth time.
But this crew was different. Like a poker player, NASA went all in with Christa McAuliffe, betting big publicity on the teacher in space. McAuliffe wasn't a high-flying cowboy of "The Right Stuff" fame. She was one of us, a teacher who schlepped off to work to earn a living.
Americans became interested in the space program again. NASA let them down.
In the investigation that followed, the space agency was shown to be fallible, the astronauts' deaths preventable.
Pain reverberated throughout the nation but especially at the Johnson Space Center, where the astronauts trained and their families lived. The close proximity to Mission Control became a constant reminder of tragedy, like the gaping hole in New York's skyline, or the grassy knoll in Dallas.
Days later, President Reagan came to the Space Center to console the astronauts' families and to reassure a workforce in shock. But I was exhausted from my daily grind and slept through that, too. When I awoke, I went on with my life, determined to be inspired once again.
Charles Williams is online entertainment editor for STLtoday.com
Then, Challenger exploded.
When I arrived the next night, my world had changed. A security guard stood outside my door, and the computers were locked down. The future of the shuttle program was uncertain, the calling was in question.
NASA was familiar with disaster. Three astronauts perished in the Apollo 1 fire in 1967, but that seemed a distant memory to many working on the shuttle program. The thrill of the first launch on April 12, 1981, had become business as usual by the time Challenger launched for the tenth time.
But this crew was different. Like a poker player, NASA went all in with Christa McAuliffe, betting big publicity on the teacher in space. McAuliffe wasn't a high-flying cowboy of "The Right Stuff" fame. She was one of us, a teacher who schlepped off to work to earn a living.
Americans became interested in the space program again. NASA let them down.
In the investigation that followed, the space agency was shown to be fallible, the astronauts' deaths preventable.
Pain reverberated throughout the nation but especially at the Johnson Space Center, where the astronauts trained and their families lived. The close proximity to Mission Control became a constant reminder of tragedy, like the gaping hole in New York's skyline, or the grassy knoll in Dallas.
Days later, President Reagan came to the Space Center to console the astronauts' families and to reassure a workforce in shock. But I was exhausted from my daily grind and slept through that, too. When I awoke, I went on with my life, determined to be inspired once again.
Charles Williams is online entertainment editor for STLtoday.com